A TOILET CONFESSION

A TOILET CONFESSION
Goldwynn D. Navarro

Sometimes people just have to admit: the toilet should be the first-floor nominee for the number “man’s best friend” Oscar’s. It is not the fuzzy dog “bungee-jumpying” on your lap and licking you toes sticky wet earl at four in the morning for an anticipated meal, nor is it the pair of headsets lazily hanging around your neck while unleashing catastrophic head-bangs in complement with the music playing.
The toilet is the real breathing room. It is in this six-faced, eight-cornered (I am thinking of the rectangular type) enclosure that we are given a chance to catch freedom for the first time and for a while, jitters of contemporary tickling sensations racing past each other from between our groins, and back and forth our ear lobes every after kick of pleasure.
It is just then that we realize that to experience happiness, true of its kind is not solely confined to two of the trite ideas that are never hesitant to leave the mind with a crunch and clutter: love, with which everybody goes madly gaga about, dreaming to have one for keeping; and victory, which obviously on the other hand, is the bottom target of every person of strict directives, and of stress.
They are to enter later. They are not hurried. They wait.
Now is the only pun to answer and “Now” is the only answer you can get.
The toilet is nonetheless the personification of what sort of life most people exhibit this very instance. We dump, we let go and move towards a more savory and restored satisfaction. We lock ourselves in secrecy behind the uncanny company of the toilet and mock, laugh, wonder and reflect on the memories of the day fascinated and absorbed.
This material world of vanity and excuses is just a guarantee that in the “other end of the rainbow”, in the other light of profound understanding; there exists another abode that is perfect, just like the toilet. The comfort room we say.
Every event with which we are sailing on is naught but an ephemeral encounter with merriment and a second to sin, and eventually of fear and disdainful pain. Despite the grey matter, it is not all life has to offer: we still have the privilege to hope and to change for the better persons we can be, don’t we?
And as you flush the toilet bowl following an energy-depriving-mustering battle with your “despicable”, and watch them plummet down to the darkness of the soil pipes, have you every thought: “I am normal. I am sane and capable of happiness. Why shouldn’t I make a stand today?”
FLUSH!!! Worries are gone for good.